


Cheekbones So Sharp

by seraphina_snape



Category: Check Please! (Webcomic)
Genre: Accidental Coming Out, Banter, Drunkenness, Established Relationship, Love Bites, M/M, Team Dynamics
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-17
Updated: 2016-06-17
Packaged: 2018-07-12 22:56:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,467
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7126771
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/seraphina_snape/pseuds/seraphina_snape
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"When we get to bed, can I touch your cheekbones then?" Holster shout-whispered into his ear. </p><p>Ransom winced at the volume, but couldn't suppress his fond smile. "Sure. You can touch my cheekbones all night, bro."</p><p>"<i>Bro</i>," Holster said happily, draping his arm over Ransom's shoulder.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Cheekbones So Sharp

**Author's Note:**

> No archive warnings apply, but Holster is more than a little buzzed and thus unable to give full and informed consent to anything that happens (off screen, but it's implied that he and Ransom at least make out). However, he and Ransom are in a relationship and I assume they've talked about scenarios like this. (After living with Shitty for two years those two boys know all about consent.)

"Yo, Ransom!"

Nursey's face was flushed, his wavy black hair sticking to his sweaty forehead. He waved his hand at Ransom as if he didn't have his attention already. Boozy liquid sloshed over the rim of his cup with every gesture.

"Yes, Nursey?"

Nursey gestured to the doorway, cursing when more of his booze fell to the laws of gravity. "Holster is so fucking shwasted he's gonna lose his chill if Tango keeps asking question. I think he's gonna punch him. Or, you know, puke on him or whatever."

"I should have known," Ransom muttered. "No, Ransy, it's fine. Go talk mitochondria with the boring people; I'mma show these frogs how to party," he mimicked. He sighed and turned to the two girls from his molecular biology course. "Sorry, ladies, but I have to go. It's my--" And yeah, what was he gonna say? Secret boyfriend? Not-so-platonic life partner? "--turn," he finished smoothly. 

He could hear Holster long before he could see him, his booming laugh traveling into every corner of the room. He looked incredibly drunk, with shiny, bright eyes, a deep flush and the attention span of a fruit fly. Whatever problem he must have had with Tango's questions seemed long forgotten. He sat on the green couch, one frog on either side, with Tango and Whiskey perched on the coffee table, apparently hanging on his every word. Tango had his mouth open, one finger in the air like he was about to ask another question, so Ransom stepped forward. Holster usually seemed more drunk than he was, and Ransom hoped that was the case tonight.

The frogs all looked up when he approached, but Holster kept sniggering to himself.

"Holster, what are you doing?"

At the sound of Ransom's voice, Holster looked up, his mouth hanging open. "Wow, you're tall," he said, awe in his voice. "Like really tall."

Ransom sighed inwardly. _So much for him not being that drunk._

"You're taller," Ransom reminded him, hoping Holster wouldn't shoot to his feet to compare heights. It would be difficult enough to get Holster up into the attic without adding a bleeding head wound to the mix. 

"Has anybody ever told you that your cheekbones are 'swasome?" 

Holster's enunciation was that of drunks everywhere: the careful over-pronunciation of every single letter that still somehow managed to sound like a mumbled, slurred mess. 

"All the time, man." _You told me so just last night_ , Ransom didn't add. 

"That's good," Holster said, nodding his head. And then, just in case people in Australia hadn't heard him, he repeated himself a little louder. "That's really good. Oh, hey, Cheekbones! Can I ask you something?"

Ransom was going to have chirping material until graduation at least. He grinned. "Go for it."

"Do you have a boyfriend?" Holster blinked slowly. "Or a girlfriend, 'cause it's not nice to storeo-sterero-sterryotype people. But if you're single, can I ask you out?"

Ransom laughed. Chirping material for the next ten _years_.

"Oh," Holster said, reaching out towards Ransom. "Can I touch your cheekbones?"

Ransom shook his head in exasperation, but Holster took it as a rejection and pushed his bottom lip out in a truly spectacular pout.

"All right, come on. Let's get you to bed." Ransom glanced at the frogs who - apart from Chowder whose eyes were mostly closed - were following the exchange with big eyes. Nursey even had his hand clamped over Tango's mouth, probably to stop him from interrupting them and thus ending the entertainment. Ransom rolled his eyes. He grabbed Holster's wrists and - with a little help from Dex and Whiskey - got Holster upright. Chowder, definitely a lot more drunk than sober, immediately took over the freed up space and put his feet up on the couch, leaning into the cushions.

"All right, frogs and tadpoles, show's over; thanks for coming to get me." Ransom grinned. "Have fun; don't do anything I wouldn't do, drink some water before you fall asleep and if you hook up with anyone, stay safe!"

Ransom wrapped his arms around Holster and nodded towards the stairs. Holster nodded and then put his head down on Ransom's shoulder.

"When we get to bed, can I touch your cheekbones then?" Holster shout-whispered into his ear. 

Ransom winced at the volume, but couldn't suppress his fond smile. "Sure. You can touch my cheekbones all night, bro."

" _Bro_ ," Holster said happily, draping his arm over Ransom's shoulder. 

Ransom maneuvered them over to the stairs and up to the second floor, but the stairs up to the attic were much narrower. Without help, he'd never make it up there with Holster clinging to him. Chowder was already half-asleep on the couch downstairs, and unless someone dragged him up the stairs at some point - assuming they were sober enough to do so themselves - the couch was where he'd stay for the night. Without hesitation, Ransom walked Holster down the short hallway and into Chowder's room. 

Once inside, he grabbed the hem of Holster's shirt and pulled it off, grinning when Holster suddenly focused on him. 

"Ransom?" he asked, confusion tingeing his voice. His eyes were a little sharper than they'd been downstairs, maybe because it was a lot quieter upstairs, but they still held that glassy look of the seriously drunk.

"The one and only, babe," Ransom confirmed. He gave Holster's shoulders a comforting squeeze and then pulled back. "Kick your shoes off for me, yeah?"

Holster looked at the life-size shark plushie on the bed. "Why are there sharks?"

"Chowder's room. You got so shwasted that you pretty much outed us to the frogs, so I dragged you upstairs. Didn't think I'd manage the stairs up to the attic with you so out of it. We can go up now, if you feel up for it."

Holster pulled a face. "This bed is closer." He kicked off his shoes and then unbuttoned his jeans, fighting to get them off without falling over.

Ransom took the chance to take off his own shoes and pants, leaving him in his customary boxers-and-t-shirt combo to sleep in. He set the shark plushie onto the desk - no need to incur Chowder's wrath by kicking it to the floor - and then pushed Holster onto the bed.

Holster yelped, one of his legs still caught in his tight jeans. Ransom tugged them off and then made a quick trip to the bathroom, leaving Holster to doze. He made Holster drink two glasses of water before stripping down himself.

Ransom crawled in beside Holster. It was a tight fit, both of them in Chowder's narrow bed. But it wasn't any worse than sharing the bottom bunk of their bed in the attic, so Ransom curled up on his side, tangling his legs with Holster's. He threw one arm over Holster's chest and smiled when Holster automatically curled his arm around Ransom's back, tucking him close against Holster's side. 

"Night, Holtzy."

"Night." Holster yawned, loud and drawn-out, before suddenly snapping his mouth shut. "Wait. Did you say I outed us to the frogs?"

Ransom hummed. "You asked if I was single because you wanted to ask me out if I was. And you asked to touch my cheekbones. Loudly. Nobody said anything, probably because Nursey was physically holding Tango's mouth shut, but I have a feeling that might have given it away, babe."

"Fuck." Holster's arm tightens around him. "Sorry."

Ransom shrugged. "I don't really mind." They'd wasted so much time getting to the point of finally _having_ a relationship that the idea of telling everyone right away hadn't seemed right. Instead, they'd agreed to keep it to themselves. Just for the first couple of weeks, until they had a chance to sort themselves out and get a little settled in their relationship. Somehow that had turned into nearly three months of dating without letting their teammates know. And the longer they let it go on without mentioning it, the harder it got to get the words out.

"Really," Ransom insisted when Holster started to protest. "If anything, I'm grateful. I had no idea how to have that talk with the team. This way, it'll be all over the group chat and we won't even have to say anything."

"Hmm." Holster shifted a little, making a little bit more room for Ransom. "Hey, Ransom?"

"Yeah?"

"Can I touch your cheekbones now?"

Ransom laughed. 

He let Holster touch his cheekbones. And a few other places.

#

The Haus kitchen was unusually crowded the next morning when Ransom finally made his way downstairs.

Bitty stood at the stove, his hip leaning against the counter and his eyes almost all the way closed. On the stove were two pans, one containing sizzling bacon and the other a mountain of scrambled eggs. Tango, one of the few frogs allowed to use the kitchen unsupervised, stood next to the toaster. He startled out of a light doze when the toaster spit out two slices of bread, but took them and added them to an alarmingly tall stack of already toasted bread before putting two more slices in. 

The table was reserved for Haus residents, so Ransom poured two mugs of coffee and then parked his butt in the seat across from Lardo. A few assorted team members who had probably crashed on the floor after the party were crowded around the table, each holding a plate and clearly waiting for Bitty to finish cooking. Post-party breakfasts had definitely improved since Bitty moved in, a freshly cooked breakfast coming out as a clear winner against cereal and pop tarts in terms of hangover cure.

"Where's Holster?" Lardo asked and Ransom pretended he didn't see just about anyone in the room perk up at little at the question, clearly interested in a confirmation of any rumor they might have heard by now. "You two are usually attached at the hip."

As if on cue, Holster stumbled in through the open doorway, blindly sinking down onto the nearest chair. His eyes were bloodshot and a little teary from having left his contact lenses in overnight. Ransom reached out and caught his wrist before he could rub at them again. 

"Fuck contact lenses," Holster mumbled. "Next time I get drunk, have me take them out before I get too shwasted to do it."

Ransom hummed and took a sip of his coffee. He didn't usually drink it this strong, but there was no denying that it was an effective way to wake up when hungover, even if it looked like he hadn't been nearly as drunk as everyone else on the team. He looked up eventually, when the expectant silence became too thick in the air, broken only by the quiet sizzling of the bacon and the occasional pop of two more slices of toast.

"What?"

The frogs exchanged pointed glances while Lardo sipped her coffee in silent amusement and the rest of the team looked on interestedly.

The toaster popped again and Nursey rolled his eyes when Dex and Chowder started elbowing each other. 

"So, Ransom," he said, leaning forward a little, "did Holster get to touch the cheekbones last night or what? What did Shitty always say? _Deets!_ "

Ransom smirked a little at the way Nursey said _cheekbones_ and glanced at Holster. 

Holster groaned and threw his head back, rubbing his hands over his scalp. The movement exposed the large, dark red hickey on his throat and Ransom felt his smugness levels rise.

Chowder eeped. "But!!!" he exclaimed in alarm. "My bed!!"

"Your bed's fine, Chowder," Holster said, a little gruffly.

Ransom reached out and patted his arm. Holster was hungover and hungry and probably feeling pretty crappy about unintentionally outing them. Holster liked having a plan; he liked making lists and working them off one by one. He probably had one for telling the team and now he'd have to scrap it.

"Yeah," Ransom said to take the focus off Holster for a moment. "You should be more worried about your giant shark--"

Chowder let out a wordless exclamation and was out of his seat and halfway up the stairs before Ransom could finish the sentence. 

"I hope y'all didn't do anything to that boy's room that you didn't clean up afterwards," Bitty said, his eyes finally all the way open. He waved a spatula at Ransom and Holster. "Or I'm putting you two on a two week kitchen ban."

"His room is fine, Bitty."

"We just slept."

"Uh-huh," Bitty said. "And that's why your neck looks like you were mauled by a wild animal." 

"My neck?" Holsters hand flew to his neck and he glared at Ransom. 

Ransom shrugged. "What? It was already out there. No point in hiding."

Speaking of..." Bitty took the pans off the stove and put them on the table. Next, he pulled a bowl filled with more scrambled eggs and another plate stacked with bacon out of the oven before taking his seat at the table. "I'm happy for the two of you."

His congratulations were drowned out by the shuffling and shoving of twelve large, hungry hockey players (and one small manager), all trying to get to the food first. 

Tango, who had been so focused on his task that he hadn't even asked a single question yet, started handing out slices of toast. Since there were limited utensils available at the Haus, even with Bitty's influence, hangover breakfast usually came in sandwich form: scrambled eggs and bacon, held together by some toast. Easy to hold and eat with one hand. 

Once everyone was chewing, Nursey looked up. "At least it's kind of a cool 'getting together' story."

Ransom snorted. 

Holster caught his eye and started laughing, setting Ransom off. Soon, they were both snickering, leaning against each other in an effort to stay upright.

Chowder came back into the kitchen and sent Bitty a grateful look at the sight of his plate, fully loaded with a steaming hot breakfast. Then his eyes shifted to Ransom and Holster and he glared a little, egged on by their laughter, before he turned to his food.

Tango paused in his breakfast and looked from Holster to Ransom. "What's so funny?"

"That's what I'd like to know," Bitty said. "I feel like I'm missing something."

Ransom patted Holster's side and gulped down the rest of his coffee. "So Holster and I have been dating for the last _three months_."

For a brief moment, the kitchen fell into silence. 

Then Nursey chuckled. "Aw, man. Priceless."

Ransom held out his hand for a fist bump. "I know, right?"

Nursey smirked at Holster across the table. "Hey, Holster, how does it feel, being so drunk you forget your own boyfriend and then hit on him?"

Holster groaned again, mumbling something about respecting the co-captain, while the rest of them broke out in laughter.

**Author's Note:**

> Inspiration for this: a few days ago I saw this tumblr post. It was a screenshot of a text conversation where some guy was apparently so sloshed that he asked his own gf is she was single. And I immediately thought that Holster would definitely be that guy. (If anyone knows which one I mean and has a link, please send it to me so I can link to it! I forgot to save it.) 
> 
> Thank you for reading! I hope you enjoyed it!


End file.
